


A loaded conversation.

by Gooferdusty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Slash, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gooferdusty/pseuds/Gooferdusty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have always wondered what happened when they got back to the motel following the events at Roosevelt Asylum.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A loaded conversation.

  
**Title:** A loaded conversation.  
 **Author:** gooferdusty   
 **Pairing/ Characters:** Sam/Dean  
 **Rating:** PG.  
 **Warnings:** None really. Is schmoopiness a warning?  
 **Disclaimer:** Not making a penny profit, don't own the boys, no hurt intended, yadda, yadda, yadda.  
 **Summary:** I have always wondered what happened when they got back to the motel following the events at Roosevelt Asylum.  
This is what i like to think happened.  
  
 **A/N** This is obviously set in season one so if it's spoilery....where the hell have you been all this time lol! Also i was in a really schmoopy mood when i wrote this so it's more sweet than sexy but sometimes that good right?  
  
 

“I’m sorry Dean.”

“Yeh so you keep saying Sammy.”

“Well i am.”

“Whatever dude.”

The drive back to the motel was a long one.

The Tumbling Dice motel was the latest crap motel in a long line of crap motels, complete with thin towels, grubby walls and sticky carpet. Sam watched as his brother slowly removed his jacket. Guilt taking a gnawing bite out of him with each hiss of pain Dean made. When Dean stripped his shirt off, his chest looking raw and angry Sam finally managed to wrestle his voice free of the choke hold that guilt had on it.

“You need any help?” Sam asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“No.” Came the reply before the bathroom door slammed behind Dean and Sam heard the shower start running.

“Great.” Sam huffed to himself, taking off his jacket and throwing it on his bed.

20 minutes later Dean appeared walking gingerly, an arm across his ribs. The bandage across his chest wasn’t great but it was the best he could manage on his own, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Sam for help.

Sam watched as his brother dug around in his duffel cursing. “Nightstand.”

At Sam’s words Dean looked over to see a couple of painkillers and a glass of water set out for him on the rickety nightstand beside his bed. Avoiding Sam’s eyes Dean downed the tablets before settling back painfully on his bed, a long breath escaping him as he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

“Dean?”

“Drop it Sam.”

“And what if i don’t?”

When Dean didn’t answer Sam crossed the room and sat on the edge of his brother’s bed. Dean’s makeshift bandage was too loose, totally missing some of his wounds altogether, deep crimson blood already soaking through the inadequate dressings. Sam winced at the sight, more so at the memory of how Dean had come by his injuries in the first place.

“At least let me look at those.” Sam said, reaching out for the end of the bandage that was working its way loose.

Dean opened his eyes when he felt the bed dip under Sam’s weight. “Don’t.” Dean spat, the warning tone in his voice clear. “Just Don’t.” He repeated, knocking Sam’s hand away from his bandages.

“Please, just let me take care of you.” Sam sighed.

Dean smirked, unable to keep the hollow laugh from leaving his lips. “Bit late for that don’t you think?”

“Dean please.”

“Just leave it.”

Sam rose from the bed, making his way to the ratty couch and sat down sighing heavily. An hour later and the silence hung heavy in the small room.

“Are we gonna talk about this?” Sam asked studying his brother’s face.

No answer.

“Dean?”

No answer.

“DEAN! TALK TO ME MAN.” Sam pleaded, placing his hands on his hips and walking around to the side of Dean’s bed.

“What do you want me to say Sam? I’m ok, it’s fine, I forgive you? Is that what you want to hear?” Dean answered watching his brother from beneath his lashes.

“No Dean i want to hear the truth, tell me.”

Dean gave an audible gasp in pain as he sat up and Sam noticed the crimson stains beneath Dean’s bandages blossoming that bit wider.

“The truth Sam. Really? I would think the truth was pretty obvious.” Dean said gesturing to his bandaged torso. “But since you seem so bent on hearing the truth how about this? You shot me Sam. You were going to kill me. You wanted me gone. If the gun i gave you had bullets in it i would be dead.”

“If i could take it back i would, you know that Dean.” Sam sighed, his hands dropping from his hips to hang at his sides.

“Do i Sam?” Dean asked, opening his eyes to look at his brother.

“What?” Sam replied his voice breaking.

“Do i know that Sam?” The question was little more than a whisper but it hit Sam with the force of a sledgehammer.  
The ground beneath his feet suddenly shifted and Sam sank to Dean’s side. The fall of his chestnut hair hiding the tears that were welling in his eyes.

“How can you say that?” Sam asked, his shoulders hunched over, his back to his brother.

“You weren’t possessed Sam. Those were your feelings. Ok so you were amped up from Ellicott’s rage therapy but even so they had to come from somewhere.” Dean gave a wry smile and shook his head. “When you left for Stanford i always thought it was because you hated the life and the way the old man raised us. I....i never thought it was because you hated me.”

Dean’s words had Sam turning around to face his brother. Dean was lying down again, blank eyes staring at the yellowing paint on the ceiling, a single tear tracking from the corner of his eye. Sam watched the salt ribbon as it made its way across Dean’s temple before disappearing into his brother’s hairline. Sam blinked against the burning threat of tears and took hold of his brother’s hand, noting that Dean wasn’t fighting him. Whether that was due to the painkillers finally kicking in or Dean just having given up Sam didn’t know.

“Dean look at me.”

Dean felt the weight of Sam’s hand in his, Sam’s thumb stroking across the back of his hand. Dean schooled his expression as best as he could into one of cool detachment and focused his attention on his brother. Trying to ignore the hazel eyes swimming with unshed tears.

“I don’t hate you Dean. I never have, you’re my big brother. What Ellicott did to me? Yeh it made me angry, angry enough to kill. But it wasn’t about you, not the way you think at least.”

“Sure doesn’t feel like that to me Sam.” Dean sighed.

Sam looked at the blood stained bandages, swallowing past the painful emotions constricting his voice. “Yeh I know.” Sam answered his voice torn and raw. “But i promise you this isn’t because i hate you, that i think you dragged me away from Stanford. Dean i don’t blame you for Jess’s death. Never have.”

“Then what’s it about Sam? What got you so mad you were ready to kill me?” Dean asked shuffling up against the headboard a little.

Sam let go of his brother’s hand, suddenly fascinated with the floral pattern printed on the bed sheets. “It’s because i love you.”

At first Dean wasn’t sure he’d heard right. Sam’s voice was so quiet. “What?”

“I said it’s because i love you.” Sam repeated, daring to risk a glance at Dean before hanging his head again, his face hidden behind his bangs.

Before he could stop himself Dean laughed. The pain it sent searing across his chest making him regret doing so immediately. “I’m sorry, what? You love me so much you wanna kill me?"

“Yeh, i mean no......sort of....” Sam faltered as Dean interrupted him.

“Mind you they do say you hurt the one you love.” Dean snarked.

“Will you stop Dean. I’m trying to be serious here.” Sam begged. He was afraid the courage he had worked so hard to find in order to have this conversation would evaporate under Dean’s wisecracking and sarcasm.

“So am i Sam.” Dean answered as he placed his palms either side of his body and with a grunt pushed himself a little higher up the pillows. “I have enough on my plate without having to worry about you going all fatal attraction on me. I mean it Sam. I find out you’ve even so much as looked at a bunny the wrong way......and....”

“Dean! enough already. I’m trying to explain myself here. Yeh i was angry ok. Angry because i have all these feelings for you that I have no outlet for.”

Dean shifted on the bed. Not sure where the conversation was heading.“What kinda feelings Sam?”

Sam didn’t speak, merely looked at his brother and raised an eyebrow.

“...Oh...” Dean nodded.

“Yeh, oh is right.” Replied Sam.

“That’s why i left for Stanford. I had all these feelings that i couldn’t reconcile with the fact that we’re brother’s. I couldn’t talk to Dad about it, and i sure as hell couldn’t talk to you. I mean, who lusts after their own brother Dean? I knew what you and Dad would think of me. That i was some sort of freak. It was better for everyone if i just left. I didn’t want you to look at me like i sickened you. So i ran. It was never you Dean. I was never angry with you. This is all on me and i’m sorry.”

Sam had taken about as much of the embarrassing conversation as he could. His brother knew now, knew how sick he was. All he could hope for was that Dean’s pain meds would kick in soon and he could put off the fallout he knew was coming for a few hours at least.

“Had or have?” Dean was staring at Sam; his green and amber flecked eyes glinting. His gaze was intense and focused despite the effects of the painkillers coursing through his body.

“I don’t understand Dean.” Sam shook his head, the weight of Dean’s gaze heavy on him.

“Are these feelings past tense? As in you HAD feelings for me? Or are we talking something much more in the here and now, as in you HAVE feelings for me?” Dean asked as he continued to watch his brother closely.

“What difference does it make?” Sam replied with a shrug of one shoulder. He was beginning to wish he’d just kept his big mouth shut.

“Just tell me Sam.”

“No.”

“Come on Sammy, you just shot me it’s the least you can do.” Dean smiled. “Dying mans wish and all that.”

Sam smiled for the first time that evening. “I shot you with rock salt Dean; don’t be such a drama queen.”

“You still shot me Sam. The truth, i deserve it.” Dean coaxed.

Sam bowed his head once more, chestnut waves acting as a barrier between himself and the embarrassing truth.

“Have.” Sam whispered.

“What was that Sammy?” Dean asked, straining to make out what his brother had said.

“Have ok.” Sam sighed in resignation. There was no point in holding back now. Dean was going to kick his ass, or more terrifyingly throw his ass out anyway. He may as well know everything. That in the years they had been apart Sam’s feelings hadn’t changed. If anything they had intensified since they’d been reunited. “I have feelings for you." Sam admited. "Not that i see how it changes things.”

Dean smiled, the edges of his eyes caught in soft lines as he pushed his little brother’s hair from his eyes. “It changes everything. You know for a college boy you can be pretty dumb at times.”

Now it was Sam’s turn to be confused. “I don’t follow Dean.”

“Well." said Dean. “If you’d have said had instead of have i couldn’t have done this.” And with that Dean leant forward as far as his burning chest would allow and kissed his baby brother. The kiss was soft and tender, the complete opposite of the hard edged animal kisses that he always imagined were Dean’s. It was perfect. It was everything.

When Sam’s eyes fluttered open his gaze was met by Dean, their foreheads resting against each other. The smile in Dean’s eyes spoke of trust, want and need. But above all it spoke of love. Sam felt the shift in their relationship like the pieces of a puzzle slotting together. For the first time in his life Sam felt whole and he couldn’t help smiling in return.

The pain in Dean’s chest eventually became too much and broke the moment between them. Accepting reality Dean sank back onto the bed with a grimace. With careful hands Sam cleaned Dean’s wounds before re-dressing them. Dean was finally succumbing to the pull of the painkillers, his eyelids growing heavy. Sam snuggled himself into the side of his big brother and placed a soft kiss over the clean dressed wounds.

“Ow!” Dean complained. Although as his smile suggested he was clearly not in any discomfort.

“Wuss.” Sam said, his breaths coming in soft warm puffs against Dean’s neck. As he placed his hand low on his brother’s stomach, stroking gently.

“Wuss? How about when i’m all better i pump your ass full of rock salt and see how you like it!” Dean said turning his head to smile at Sam.

Sam leant in as far as Dean’s raw chest would allow and kissed his big brother. Slow wet and needy, a promise of future passion.

“You know Dean.” Said Sam breaking the kiss. “I think when you’re all better i’d rather you pumped my ass full of something else.......”

Dean half choked, half laughed, before reaching up to claim Sam’s lips once more. Sam moaned deepening the kiss as the world fell away until nothing existed outside of their room, outside of each other, outside of this moment. Finally the need for oxygen had them resurfacing, all dazed eyes and swollen lips.

“You know.” Smirked Dean; if i’d have known shooting me got you horny i’d have let you shoot me years ago.”

“Dean.”

“Yeh Sammy?”

“Shut up and let me ki.... mmmppff...........”

The last two words were kiss you. But those, like Sam’s heart and soul were swallowed whole.

 

The End..

  



End file.
